FAZER LOGINThe Woman on the Phone
Adrian's fingers moved across the screen, and he brought the phone to his ear.
"Hi," he said, stepping into his study. "Yes, I can talk."
The door closed behind him.
I stood in the marble hallway, my bandaged hand throbbing in rhythm with my heartbeat, and wondered who Sophia Bennett was.
And why Adrian sounded different when he answered her call. He sounded warmer somehow, less guarded.
More like himself.
---
I woke up at 4:47 AM and couldn't fall back asleep.
The other side of the bed was still empty. Adrian hadn't come to bed, which meant he'd either slept in his study or never made it home at all. I told myself it didn't matter. That I didn't care about the phone call with Sophia Bennett, about the warmth in his voice that I'd never heard directed at me.
I told myself a lot of things that morning.
By 6 AM, I was in the study with my laptop open, searching for Sophia Bennett like some kind of obsessed woman who had nothing better to do.
And I found her immediately.
She had a LinkedIn profile that read like a masterclass in ambition. Vice President of Corporate Development at Sterling Enterprises. Five years of international experience in Southeast Asia. A degree from Columbia. A photograph that showed a woman with sharp cheekbones, dark hair styled with effortless sophistication, and the kind of confidence that came from always knowing you belonged in the room.
She was beautiful.
Not in the way I was beautiful, careful, understated, trying not to take up too much space. Sophia Bennett had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen. The kind that made men answer their phones at any hour of the day.
I hated her immediately. And I hated myself more for hating her.
The workday dragged on. I sat through back-to-back meetings, but my mind wasn't in any of them. Around 10 AM, I noticed Adrian leaving his office. He didn't say where he was going. He just stood up and walked out, leaving his assistant to reschedule a client presentation.
At lunch, Olivia, my loyal assistant who somehow always knew everything, leaned against my desk with two coffees in hand.
"He's been doing that a lot lately," she said quietly, setting a cup down in front of me. Olivia was a woman in her early thirties with sharp observational skills and the kind of discretion that made her invaluable to anyone who actually respected their staff. "Leaving during the day. But never says where."
"Adrian?" I asked, like there was any other "he" worth discussing.
"Yeah. For the past few weeks, maybe longer. It's not like him." Olivia settled into the chair across from me. "You didn't know?"
I took a long sip of coffee to buy myself time. "I didn't ask."
"Mm-hmm," Olivia said, in a tone that suggested she knew exactly what I wasn't saying. "Well, whatever it is, he keeps it private. Even his calendar blocks are vague."
She left before I could respond, but her words lingered like smoke I couldn't quite clear from the air.
By 2 PM, I'd made a decision I hated myself for making.
I left the office early, telling Olivia I had a client meeting across town. Instead, I positioned myself across the street from Harrison Group headquarters, wearing sunglasses and feeling like the worst version of myself.
I waited for forty minutes.
When Adrian finally emerged, he wasn't alone.
Sophia Bennett walked beside him, and she was even more striking in person than her photograph suggested. She wore a cream-coloured suit that probably cost more than my monthly salary, and she moved like she'd already won whatever game she was playing.
I pressed myself against a storefront window, hating every second of this.
Adrian said something to her. I couldn't hear the words, but Sophia smiled. It was a real smile. The kind of smile that reached her eyes. That kind Adrian rarely directed at me.
"It won't be long," Adrian said, his voice carrying across the distance. "I just need to confirm the details with my contacts."
"You're a lifesaver," Sophia replied. "Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you right now."
The way she said it, the intimacy in her tone made my stomach clench.
Adrian's hand came up and settled against her back, guiding her toward the waiting car. It was a small gesture. Automatic. The kind of thing people did without thinking.
But I had never felt his hand on my back like that. Not in public, not with that easy confidence.
The light changed. The car should have driven away. Instead, Sophia lowered the window and leaned back toward Adrian.
She was close enough that I could see her lips moving, could see Adrian's expression shift into something I'd never seen directed at me. Warmth, concern and tenderness.
Then Sophia laughed. A sound that carried across the street, and she reached for his hand.
She placed it against her stomach gently and deliberately.
My breath stopped.
Adrian didn't pull away. His hand stayed there for a moment, and I watched his expression change. A flicker of something protective, something deeply personal crossing his features.
Then the car pulled away and disappeared into traffic.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight properly. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I
pulled it out with shaking hands.
A message from Adrian.
Working late. Don't wait up.
The Hospital Adrian and Sophia outside New York Memorial Hospital. His hand on her back. Her face tilted up toward his, expression soft and intimate. The timestamp showed today. Less than two hours ago.I stared at the photograph for a long time. Then I looked up the hospital's address. And I knew exactly where I was going tomorrow.I told myself I was going to the hospital for a routine appointment. The lie lasted twenty seconds.I parked in the visitor lot at New York Memorial and sat in my car with my hands gripping the steering wheel. The maternity wing entrance was visible from where I sat. I told myself I could leave. I could drive away and pretend I'd never seen that photograph. I could go back to not knowing.But I'd already spent five years not knowing.I got out of the car and walked toward the entrance.The maternity wing was aggressively cheerful. Soft blues and greens. Photographs of happy families on the walls. A receptionist smiled at me as I passed, and I felt like a
A place I Don't Belong The words blurred as I stared at them. I read them three times, four times, trying to understand what I was supposed to feel.Five years.I'd spent five years convincing myself that this marriage was enough. That unrequited love was better than no love at all. That someday, somehow, Adrian might wake up and realize I mattered.Now, watching the space where that car had vanished, I understood the truth. I wasn't Adrian Harrison's wife. I was just someone he'd married for business reasons, and now there was someone else.Someone pregnant. Someone he touched like she was precious. Someone who wasn't me.I didn't sleep that night.I sat in the dark of the master bedroom, fully dressed, waiting for the sound of Adrian's car in the driveway. Midnight came and went. Then one o'clock. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed like a countdown to something I wasn't ready to face.By 2 AM, I stopped pretending he was coming home.Instead, I moved to the study and pulled
The Woman on the PhoneAdrian's fingers moved across the screen, and he brought the phone to his ear."Hi," he said, stepping into his study. "Yes, I can talk."The door closed behind him.I stood in the marble hallway, my bandaged hand throbbing in rhythm with my heartbeat, and wondered who Sophia Bennett was.And why Adrian sounded different when he answered her call. He sounded warmer somehow, less guarded.More like himself.---I woke up at 4:47 AM and couldn't fall back asleep.The other side of the bed was still empty. Adrian hadn't come to bed, which meant he'd either slept in his study or never made it home at all. I told myself it didn't matter. That I didn't care about the phone call with Sophia Bennett, about the warmth in his voice that I'd never heard directed at me.I told myself a lot of things that morning.By 6 AM, I was in the study with my laptop open, searching for Sophia Bennett like some kind of obsessed woman who had nothing better to do.And I found her immedi
Things Left Unsaid Margaret is Adrian's grandmother, seventy-three years old, intimidating, and the only member of his family who'd ever treated me like I was a real person instead of a temporary fixture.Tomorrow. Dinner. Adrian had already agreed, which meant he'd accepted without telling me, which meant it was important.Margaret Harrison's private residence was the kind of place that made you understand exactly how much generational wealth could accumulate. Crystal chandeliers cast soft light across rooms filled with art that probably cost more than most people's houses. And Margaret herself sat at the head of the dinner table like she owned not just the room, but time itself."Evelyn, darling, you look absolutely stunning tonight," Margaret said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. Her skin was paper-thin, but her grip was strong. "That dress is perfect on you."I'd worn a simple black gown, nothing flashy. Nothing that would draw attention. Margaret made it sound like I'd single-
THE EMPTY SIDE OF THE BEDI woke before dawn.The mattress beside me was cold. Cold in a way that meant no one had slept there at all.I lay still for a moment, listening to the Harrison Estate settle around me. The bedroom was the size of most people's apartments. Crystal chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. And absolutely nothing that said Adrian and I belonged here together. No photos of us on the walls. No wedding picture on the nightstand. Nothing that proved we were anything more than two people sharing square footage.I'd stopped asking him to stay in bed a long time ago.The clock on the nightstand read 5:47 AM. Adrian would already be at the office. He always was. Some men had morning coffee. Adrian had Harrison Group spreadsheets.I pulled myself up and reached for the silk robe draped across the velvet chair. The fabric was expensive. Everything in this room was expensive except the feeling that lived here.By six o'clock, I was downstairs in the kit







